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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199510">Logic v. The State of Thomas Sanders</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluesfeedUnsolved/pseuds/BluesfeedUnsolved'>BluesfeedUnsolved</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Courtroom Drama, Enemies to Friends, Everyone is sad., Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, Puzzles, Sad Logic | Logan Sanders, Swearing, Time Loop, canon adjacent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:47:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluesfeedUnsolved/pseuds/BluesfeedUnsolved</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After an argument, Logan leaves to wallow in his room. Thomas and the other sides need to get to his room to talk things out, but someone is standing in front of Logan's room and he doesn't want anyone getting in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders &amp; Everyone, Logic | Logan Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders &amp; Original Character(s), Logic | Logan Sanders &amp; Thomas Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>267</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Mr. Highanmeyetee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, and welcome to my first multi-chapter fic! I don't think that there are any warnings for this chapter besides mild swearing and Logan angst.</p><p>Enjoy, everyone!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Thomas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This, this needed some thinking. This needed some time just to mull things. He needed some quiet. And then there was Logan, chattering away about something tangentially related to the topic at hand. It was psychobabble, then statistics, then something about cooking (which wasn’t close to what they were talking about), and then a question about who knows what with an expectant look.</p><p> </p><p>    “Logan, just be quiet for one second,” Thomas pleaded. He loved Logan and knew that he just wanted the best for him, like any of the sides, but Thomas needed to think and he was not helping. “I need to process this.”</p><p> </p><p>    “We all need to process this. I’ve found that the way that the brain processes information to be quite fascinating,” said Logan adjusting his glasses. “When it comes to learning, writing the information down multiple times has been pro-.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Logan,” said Patton quietly at the same time as Virgil and Roman.</p><p> </p><p>    “L,” warned Virgil at the same time as Roman and Patton.</p><p> </p><p>    “Specs,” said Roman sharply at the same time as Patton and Virgil, with an eye roll.</p><p> </p><p>    Logan looked around and sighed with a small false smile on his face, a compromise.</p><p> </p><p>    “I see. My apologies.”</p><p> </p><p>    They all just stood there. What were they waiting for? Logan rolled back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels as he looked around the room. How were they all so patient? What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he be kind or loving or quiet or emotional like they wanted?</p><p> </p><p>    “Are you sure that you want us here,” Logan asked.</p><p> </p><p>    “Not now, Logan,” Thomas snapped.</p><p> </p><p>    Was it normal to feel a twinge in your chest? A sharp pain where your heart would be if you were a normal, complete human person and not a failure of a miserable side, a side that wasn't even useful? He bit his tongue. The others would talk for him. </p><p> </p><p>    It was fine. </p><p> </p><p>    He was fine.</p><p> </p><p>    “Then shall we see ourselves out,” Logan asked to thin air.</p><p> </p><p>    It was radio silence from the others. Not even Thomas looked in his direction. So, he waited and nothing came. He waited a bit longer. Yet, still no one said anything or did anything. Logan, against his better judgement, jumped to a conclusion. A frightful conclusion, at that.</p><p> </p><p>    “Can you all see me or hear me? Have I become invisible? Can any of us see each other? I didn’t even know that we could do that. This-this is serious. We all need to calm down and take it one step at a time.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Logan, please. We can see you and we can hear you. Please just be quiet. I don’t need this. I don’t need you,” Thomas said. It felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>    “I am just trying to make sure that you’re okay. It would kill me, figuratively, if you weren’t and I did something to cause that.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Do you really think that you’re the only one who cares about Thomas’ well-being,” Roman asked, eyes flashing.</p><p> </p><p>    “I apologize for being the only sensible one here,” Logan snapped.</p><p> </p><p>    “Oh, please. Get off of your soap box,” Roman yelled.</p><p> </p><p>    “I am standing on a hardwood floor. We all are. Is this new information for you,” Logan retorted.</p><p> </p><p>    “Well look at Mr. High-and-Mighty. He knows everything, doesn’t he? The rest of us could never compete with his intellect.”</p><p> </p><p>    “I cannot believe you. All I do is try to help you all and I get nothing in return,” said Logan.</p><p> </p><p>    “Nothing in return? That’s rich coming from you. I am constantly sacrificing what I want just so it can fit into your ideal. You’re just so ridiculous sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if you’re the real fanciful side here,” Roman yelled.</p><p> </p><p>    “Take that back.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Why should I? What are you going to do? Wound my eye again by flinging around another piece of paper?”</p><p> </p><p>    It wasn’t enough for them to cut each other with their words, but they had to compete with their volumes as well. Roman’s grandiose gestures were matched by Logan’s sharp jabs.</p><p> </p><p>    “Alright. That’s enough,” Thomas said sharply. He had never spoken to any of them like this. “I don’t know what the frick has gotten into you guys, but you need to stop. My head is killing me and now I have to deal with new things and everything is falling apart at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>    “Language,” Patton said under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>    “We’re all adults here. There’s no need to censor yourself,” Logan helpfully pointed out.</p><p> </p><p>    “Maybe it’s because I don’t want to curse, Logan.”</p><p> </p><p>    Everyone should have been looking at Thomas, but instead every one of them was staring directly at Logan. He felt like a bug under a microscope. No, he was not a bug. At least a bug could have some dignity or they could find something useful to do with it. He couldn’t be useful when they didn’t want him around.</p><p> </p><p>    “It seems that I am not needed here. I’ll do you all the favor of showing myself out. I suggest that you all do that same,” he murmured and sank out.</p><p> </p><p>    Thomas was thinking many things immediately after Logan left. One of his thoughts was “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” </p><p> </p><p>    “<em>Thank you, Virgil. Very helpful</em>,” he thought back.</p><p> </p><p>    Another thought was a sigh of relief and then a devastating wave of  “Thomas is going to kill me.” No, he was not going to kill Roman, but something needed to be done.</p><p> </p><p>    “Well that could have gone better,” came Patton’s thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>    “Yeah, I know that it could have gone better, Patton. You don’t need to patronize me,” Thomas said.</p><p> </p><p>    “<em>Patton</em>tronize, you mean,” Roman piped up. Seeing everyone else stare at him with their mouths gaping, he said, “What? It was right there.”</p><p> </p><p>    “I didn’t mean to sound that <em> harsh </em> with him. It was an information overload. I couldn’t handle it,” said Thomas.</p><p> </p><p>    “You’re going to need to tell him that, kiddo. It doesn’t do us any good if he’s not here.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Can one of you guys go get him? If I just explain, he’ll understand and everything will be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>    The sides looked at each other and then back at Thomas, unsure which one of them should speak.</p><p> </p><p>    “It’s not that easy. Logan doesn’t really like anyone going into his room unannounced, so it’ll be hard just to ask him to come up, especially after what just happened. We can’t just get him. We all have to go to his room and see if he’ll let us in,” Virgil explained. “That’s probably where he’s holed himself up.”</p><p> </p><p>    “God, what does Logan’s room even look like,” Thomas asked.</p><p> </p><p>    “No idea. Never been in it,” Virgil said. “Whenever I knock, he comes out and we sit in the hallway.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Same with me,” Patton shrugged. “Though I’ve seen his room before. It’s exactly what you’d expect for him.”</p><p> </p><p>    “He lets me in only when he has no other choice,” Roman said casually checking his nails.</p><p> </p><p>    “I guess that we have to go then,” said Thomas. </p><p> </p><p>    He closed his eyes and they sunk out. They rose up in a well-lit hallway, similar to the one in Thomas’ own home, save for the fact that there were several more doors than he actually had. As he looked farther down, he could see it get progressively darker.</p><p> </p><p>    “What’s down there,” Thomas asked.</p><p> </p><p>    “The Dark Sides,” muttered Roman. Neither he nor Virgil looked at each other.</p><p> </p><p>    “Let’s not call them that. They’re not that bad, kiddo. Besides, Logan’s room is right over here,” said Patton desperate to prevent another argument from breaking out.</p><p> </p><p>    Logan’s door was blue. It was slightly taller than Thomas was (all of the sides were the same height as him, so this was not unusual). It had one silver handle and a print sign in Times New Roman twelve point font that was double spaced reading “This is the room of Logic ‘Logan’ Sanders.”</p><p> </p><p>    This wasn’t quite all of it, however. There was one more thing at Logan’s door: what looked to be Logan, himself. Though, his tie was grayer. His glasses were too. In fact, everything about him seemed to be so, including his attitude.</p><p> </p><p>    “Logan, oh my god. We were looking for you,” Patton exclaimed. “We were going to your room, but I guess that we don’t have to.”</p><p> </p><p>   What appeared to be Logan turned his head to face them and smirked.</p><p> </p><p>    “Oh, I’m not Logan,” he said, “but if you want to get to his room, you’re going to have to get through me.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Did Logan put traps to get into his room,” asked Roman.</p><p> </p><p>    “No,” answered what was apparently not Logan. “But I will not let you in.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Why not? We really need to see Logan. It’s important,” said Thomas.</p><p> </p><p>    “Oh, I know exactly why you want to see him. Another ‘disagreement’, was it? For starters, I cannot let you in because not all of you are here.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Logan, this isn’t funny,” Patton shouted, hoping that it was a dream.</p><p> </p><p>    “What do you mean ‘not all of us’,” Virgil said sharply. “Are you talking about...?”</p><p> </p><p>    What was not Logan simply nodded.</p><p> </p><p>    “I don’t care how <em> accepted </em> he is. I’m not letting him or Roman’s freaky brother over here. This is between us and Logan doesn’t need to deal with any of their shit right now,” snapped Virgil (with an almost immediate whisper of “language” from Patton).</p><p> </p><p>    “Then I will not allow you to try and get to him,” said Not Logan.</p><p> </p><p>    “This is bullshit,” said Virgil. He pushed Fake Logan out of the way and slammed on the door. He tried to jiggle the doorknob. He even pretended to push a doorbell.  </p><p> </p><p>    Nothing happened.</p><p> </p><p>    “He can’t hear you. Besides that’s not even his actual door,” Logan 2.No said, growing board. “Now go get Janus and Remus and I’ll see about letting you all try to get in.”</p><p> </p><p>    Virgil was about to pounce on whoever this guy was and Roman wasn’t far behind with his sword. Patton was using all of his strength to hold them both back. Thomas, on the other hand, simply sighed.</p><p> </p><p>    “Yeah, sure. Let’s go,” Thomas said, already beginning to walk down the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>    “Are you sure about this, kiddo,” Patton asked, still trying to drag the other sides to Thomas.</p><p> </p><p>    “No, but if someone is going through all of this trouble to make sure that we don’t talk to him, then I’m going to play along until we get some answers.”</p><p> </p><p>    The dark side of the mindscape was exactly the same as the light side except that it was darker. Thomas wasn’t quite sure how. There were no lights or windows on either side, so it really shouldn’t have any differences between them. There were two doors down on this end. One of them was green, an acid green, and held three different knockers each in the shape of a different (and surprisingly anatomically correct) body part.</p><p> </p><p>    Thomas knocked and with each knock came a human scream. Lovely.</p><p> </p><p>    “Want to take the reins here, Roman?”</p><p> </p><p>    “Not really, but it’s for Logan,” he said reluctantly.</p><p> </p><p>    The door opened to reveal a bloody Remus. (Whose blood it was, none of them could say.) He scanned each side and Thomas and gave them their own individualized eyeroll, until he came to Roman that is.</p><p> </p><p>    “Broman, what brings you down here? Ran out of ideas for wooing the man of your dreams or do you want to cut some heads off? And you brought the whole entourage? God, do you all know how to treat a boy or what,” Remus screeched. He threw his arms around Roman who gently patted him on the back.</p><p> </p><p>    “We need your help. Apparently,” Roman said.</p><p> </p><p>    “You need my help,” asked Remus, raising an eyebrow. “You actually need me around?”</p><p> </p><p>    “Apparently, yes. Something is guarding Logan’s door and he refuses to let us in unless you and <em> Deceit </em> are there too.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Well, then go get <em> putting the J in anus </em>. What are you waiting for, you fucking Teletubbies?”</p><p> </p><p>    Remus pointed across the hall to a grand door that changed colors (except for yellow) every few seconds. Thomas had to restrain himself from staring at it too long for fears of permanent eye damage. </p><p> </p><p>    “That’s Janus’ room?” Thomas said.</p><p> </p><p>    “Yup. The drama queen wanted to keep up his lying schtick and he’s so fucking extra,” said Remus, rolling around on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>    “Here goes nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>    Thomas was about to knock on the perpetually color changing door, except that it opened right before he made contact, revealing an irritated Janus.</p><p> </p><p>    “Oh, look. The Morality gang came knocking at my door. What do you want,” he sighed, but then added with a smile, “hello, Thomas.”</p><p> </p><p>    “We need your help,” Patton piped up from behind Thomas.</p><p> </p><p>    “Wait, is that Virgil I spy? I think that I almost missed you. You were hiding, like usual,” Janus smirked.</p><p> </p><p>    Virgil glared at him.</p><p> </p><p>    “I’m going to go wait with Je Ne Sais Quoigan. If you want to play around with these two, have fun, but I’m going to go try to get to Logan,” Virgil huffed. He stormed off.</p><p> </p><p>    “Hmm, typical. But where is Logan? I don’t spy him with my little eye...im.”</p><p> </p><p>    “That’s what we need your help with. It’s Logan-,” Patton began.</p><p> </p><p>    Janus walked back into his room, grabbed his bowler hat and cape, and rushed out of his room.</p><p> </p><p>    “Well, why didn’t you fucking lead with that,” he snapped.</p><p> </p><p>    The group made their way back to Virgil nursing a bruise on his arm.</p><p> </p><p>    “Whoever that guy is, he’s stronger than he looks. So, he’s definitely not Logan,” Virgil muttered.</p><p> </p><p>    “Alright. We’re all here. Now can we talk to Logan,” said Thomas.</p><p> </p><p>    “No,” said Definitely Not Logan. “Not yet.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Why should we trust you? We don’t even know who you are,” said Janus.</p><p> </p><p>    “I suppose that telling you who I am couldn’t hurt. Well then, I am a sentient structure, though I suppose that you could consider me to be artificial intelligence. I am a keeper of knowledge, not dissimilar to Logan. Think of me as a monitor or a referee. In simple terms, for those who need it,” he said looking directly at the twins with the last statement. Roman rolled his eyes and smugly made ‘offended Princey noises’ under his breath. “I am Logan’s room.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Logically Speaking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exposition: The Chapter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Reconfigured some things and I realized that I had to make this its own chapter because it just wouldn't really flow and would just take up too much time from what is now the next chapter.</p><p>Warnings:</p><p>Minor swearing.<br/>(I think that that's it).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    “I’m sorry. What?”</p><p> </p><p>    Thomas could not possibly be more dumbfounded. And he wasn’t the only one. He looked back at the sides standing behind him, but they only answered him with raised eyebrows and heads shaking. </p><p> </p><p>    “I said that I am Logan’s Room. Are you having issues with your hearing? You may want to partake in a visit to a doctor.”</p><p> </p><p>    He stood there blank faced. No light in his eyes, but the teeniest tiniest curl of his lips, of the most miniscule smirk could be seen plain as day. He liked to toy with them. He was in control now. He had every piece right where he wanted.</p><p> </p><p>    Remus burst out laughing, almost doubled over.</p><p> </p><p>    “What could possibly be so funny,” said Roman.</p><p> </p><p>    “I just thought of something. We’re trying to get into Logan’s room and <em> that’s </em> Logan’s Room. And we’re trying to get in him.”</p><p> </p><p>    It was difficult to understand what Remus was saying from all of the shrill shrieks that he called laughter.</p><p> </p><p>    “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Take a walk dude. This is kind of serious,” sighed Virgil, slowly becoming reminded of why he left them in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>    “I will have you know that I do not appreciate jokes of that nature, and neither does Logan,” said Logan’s Room sharply.</p><p> </p><p>    “So you’re Logan’s Room. Sure. Why not? But, how is that possible,” Janus asked.</p><p> </p><p>    “Oh, Janus. Always asking questions, but never answering any yourself,” replied Logan’s Room. “There will be a time and a place for all of that. Right now there are more pressing matters.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Yeah, like where the fuck is Logan,” said Virgil, glaring.</p><p> </p><p>    “He’s in his room. As for how he is, you should all be able to answer that yourselves. I know what you came here for, but what makes you think that I should allow you to see him?”</p><p> </p><p>    None of them spoke. None of them looked at each other or at Logan’s Room. The mindscape was silent.</p><p> </p><p>    “What do we have to do,” said Thomas, still not looking at Logan’s Room.</p><p> </p><p>    Logan’s Room cleared his throat, adjusted his gray tie, and stepped closer to the group.</p><p> </p><p>    “I’ve prepared some tasks, or labors, if you will, for you all. Prove yourself and perhaps you can go in.”</p><p> </p><p>    Roman was ready to rip out his sword and let all hell break loose. God, perhaps even six minutes spent near his brother was already having such drastic effects? Thankfully, Patton seemed aware of this, and pulled his arm back just in time. He gave him a shake of the head and his eyes said, <em> "it's what Thomas wants. We have to go along." </em></p><p> </p><p>    “So we can't get any answers? You're just going to throw us into this,”  said Janus with a raised eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>    “I suppose that I could answer a couple of questions. It's what Logan would want,” Logan's Room conceded. “Now what do you want to know?”</p><p> </p><p>    “For starters, I guess just who the hell are you,” asked Virgil.</p><p> </p><p>    “All of your rooms are sentient to a certain extent. Logan’s, however, is more so because he is the mind. Logan’s room works in accordance with him. I am an extension of Logan created to be of assistance. Think of me as the interface to his room,” Logan’s Room explained.</p><p> </p><p>    “So, you <em> are </em>Logan or did he make you?”</p><p> </p><p>    “Yes and no, I am an extension of him. I am the interface of his room. I am as much him as any of your rooms are. He created me as a facilitator or an assistant, but I am not him and I never will be.”</p><p> </p><p>    Logan’s Room could have passed for Logan. They had the same steely look in their eyes. The same clothing, though their palettes were different. However, if you didn’t notice the color differences, there was one infinitesimal thing that could differentiate the two for you. It was the way that they carried themselves. Once upon a time, Logan smiled. He talked. A lot. He stood tall and spoke to you with confidence. But that was a long time ago. They could never pinpoint when exactly this change in him occured. They didn’t pay close enough attention. Now, he spoke quietly, usually only when spoken to. When he looked in his direction or spoke to him, his eyes lit up like that old part of himself was coming out of retirement. Logan’s Room had a perpetual eyebrow raise. Every word carried an air of “I told you so”.</p><p> </p><p>    “Now about your tasks. I have devised them to tailor to each one of you specifically. Please follow me through this door,” he continued. </p><p> </p><p>    “But you said that this isn’t Logan’s room,” said Patton.</p><p> </p><p>    “Not directly, it isn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>    They followed him through the blue door and came upon a wall of six doors. A light blue, a purple, a red, a green, a yellow, and finally a pink door. One for each of them.</p><p> </p><p>    “So, all of us will be doing these tasks at the same time? How can you be in that many places at once,” asked Thomas.</p><p> </p><p>    “Each task will be done individually and with no aid. Additionally, I can be in as many places as I want at the same time because I am imaginatory.” He stared directly at Thomas while saying this. “You can do anything that you want.</p><p> </p><p>    “And if that’s all, let’s be on our way.”</p><p> </p><p>    Everyone stood in front of their respective doors and looked down the line at Thomas at the end. He stared at the door in front of him, took a deep breath, and nodded back at his sides. They each turned the knobs and stepped into whatever unknown Logan’s Room created for them.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I realize that this isn't the longest chapter or a very involved one, but it's necessary and helped flow better with the rest of the story to be separate.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading! I really hope that you enjoy it! Please leave some comments, kudos, and theories! I love reading them!</p><p>I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Red String of Brain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This has nothing to do with soulmates.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings:</p><p>Patton angst</p><p>Logan angst</p><p>I think that that's it. Do tell me if there's more.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Patton wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Math problems maybe? A riddle, perhaps? Maybe he would have to physically fight Logan's Room, though he would lose for sure.</p><p> </p><p>    Despite being Logan's Room, and much more logical than the actual side, he seemed too painfully aware that none of this was real.</p><p> </p><p>    Through his door, he came to a clearing. The sun wasn’t perched overhead, but beating down on him. His door still stayed behind him, but in front was a giant hedge maze. Wait, what was the name that Logan would call it? From the old stories with the half bull and half man stalking around in it?</p><p> </p><p>    Oh, yeah. <em>A</em> <em>labyrinth.</em></p><p> </p><p>    “Hello, Patton,” said a bright voice.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton’s attention was turned the entrance of the labyrinth. Coming out of it was Logan’s Room, almost reflecting the light off of him. He didn’t like the sweet voice that he was putting on. It made him feel sick and uncomfortable, almost like he was having a sugar high or being patronized.</p><p> </p><p>    “I’m glad that you could find the place alright,” said Logan’s room. The condescension was tangible.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton didn’t laugh. He felt Logan’s Room painful smile and cold eyes bore into him. He saw the wind moving in the hedges but couldn’t actually feel it.</p><p> </p><p>    “So, a maze?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>    “Yes. Your task is to enter the maze, successfully traverse it to the center, grab what is there, and return. You will be given a map,” he said dryly.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton gulped. Logan could get through it easily. Roman and Remus would probably just use their weapons and smash through it. Virgil and Janus would find some way of outsmarting Logan’s Room. He had nothing. It's not like he could plead to let them all just go. What could he actually do? Bake cookies? Logan didn’t even like cookies that weren’t with Crofters. Why would his room be any different?</p><p> </p><p>    “Do you accept the challenge? You don’t have to,” Logan’s Room said with a steely smile.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton focused on anything but the <strike>side</strike> <strike>person </strike> <strike>  interface </strike> not Logan in front of him. He focused on the sun that was beating down. He focused on the sky being a cold gray. Gray, like the eyes of Logan’s Room. His eyes examined Logan’s Room, looking for a tiny remnant of his friend. If Logan made him, then they had to be similar, right? Logan had little fireworks in his eyes whenever he spoke. The thing in front of him had sparks instead. They wore the same clothing, but Logan’s Room had such a drearier and heavier palette. Why wasn’t Logan here? Why send “an interface”, as he called himself? There was only one way to find out.</p><p> </p><p>    “I accept.”</p><p> </p><p>    He closed his eyes as he walked in. Slowly opening them revealed not a lush, green paradise that one would expect from The Secret Garden, but a maze as far as his eyes could see of dense hedge covered in webs from moths. If his only instructions were to get out, this couldn’t be too bad. Right? </p><p> </p><p>    There were two ways that he could go. Left or straight ahead? He tried to think about what his fellow sides would do. Roman would go straight with his sword drawn, but Patton didn’t have any weapons. Virgil would spend a good eight minutes overthinking which direction to go in, but Patton wasn’t quite that introspective. Janus would try to cheat the system and look for a loophole, but Patton always made sure to play by the rules, even vague ones. Patton didn’t even want to think about what Remus would do. And Logan? He didn’t want to think about that now.</p><p> </p><p>    He decided to go left. There was nothing that you would expect for a magical hedge labyrinth inside the mind of the thirty-one year old man, except for more hedge. So, he went right. He went straight. He went left again.</p><p> </p><p>    He had no idea where he was. The map that he was given was no help. Everytime he looked at it, he felt a thick cloud fog up his mind, making it difficult to even read the map. He could just trek on, always moving forwards and never back like a shark would. But he didn’t want to be a shark. He wanted something more contemplative. So, he decided to turn back and try again.</p><p> </p><p>    He wanted to turn back, but there was no back to turn to anymore. Instead of a crossroads, it was pure hedge, a wall. Maybe he walked farther from the crossroads than he remembered…? But that idea got tossed out the window when he was presented with a long narrow stream of hedge with one corner turning right.</p><p> </p><p>    But God forbid that anything be easy. This wasn’t quite what Patton was feeling because he had a bit more respect for religion than that, but it was close. He made a left turn and then a right. Right? Then he went straight and then he turned right and then he went straight again?</p><p> </p><p>    He honestly couldn’t tell one hedge from another. Everything looked the same. Part of him wanted to make a joke about him and Logan. They had the same glasses, similar logos, the same colors (though different shades), even similar titles. As Patton passed through his thoughts and a narrow stretch of hedge, he was caught by a frowning face beginning to permeate. Logan never looked happy, or sad for that matter. He never looked much of anything. Except he could recall the quick flash of pain in Logan’s eyes and the inability to look at him after Patton had asked him to leave, to shut up, to go away. Because each and every time that Patton did it, he burned one more bridge with Logan. But that didn’t matter now. As much as he adored looking at the past, he needed to focus on the happier times and march straight into the future.</p><p> </p><p>    Or rather that had been the plan until he made contact with a piece of wood. He looked up to find that it was a staircase. Did he actually find the way out, all by himself?</p><p> </p><p>    Alas, no. Because nothing could be easy, apparently. Climbing the staircase only revealed a small bridge and more stairs that led to another part of the maze. From up above, he could see, well, everything. And everything meant a vast maze that was changing right before his eyes. Each twist and turn that he had previously taken was now replaced by a corner, a dead end, or something else entirely. Nothing was the same. Nevertheless, he climbed over the stairs into a new part of the maze. If it was just going to change, what was the point of staying in the same spot? But that was the problem: there was no way out.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton felt a large weight on shoulder that hadn’t been there before, or rather, he simply had not acknowledged it before. What use was it now though? He allowed himself to get lost just for a silly argument that they’ve had thousands of times. Not even God knew what sort of tricks and trials and befuddlements were being hatched upon Thomas and the other sides. And he had no way to get to them. He almost lost his balance as he came off of the stairs. He could feel the tears stain his face. Patton found his final resting place in a dead end. Usually, he loved people and being near them and all of the warmth that they could bring. Now, he wasn’t sure if he could face another one.</p><p> </p><p>    “I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m sorry, Virgil and Roman. I’m sorry, Janus. Yes, I’m even sorry to you too, Remus. Most of all, I’m sorry, Logan. I couldn’t be there for you. I just made it all worse, didn’t I,” he sobbed, trying to hold in every tear (but failing miserably).</p><p> </p><p>    He looked around to see that he wasn’t just in a dead end, but was completely surrounded. He’d never get out now. Patton’s thing was playing by the rules and winning that way. But there weren’t any rules. He couldn’t win if he had nothing to play by. </p><p> </p><p>    <em> Who else liked rules? </em></p><p> </p><p>    And that’s when every piece clicked. Logan. Logan liked rules. Rules were his entire being. Logan could have figured this out. But Logan wouldn’t have even been in this mess. Then why was Patton even here? If it wasn’t so he could beg on his knees or cry into a hedge, then why?</p><p> </p><p>    Patton felt the gears turning in his head and wondered if this was how Logan always felt. Confused? Lost? Trapped? He wanted to laugh. Logan was so headstrong and confident and he knew where he was and how he fit into the world.</p><p> </p><p>    He genuinely could not remember the last time that he had talked with Logan. Obviously, he had spoken to Logan right before all of this occured, but when was the last time that they talked together about anything. Logan rarely brought himself into any conversations with the other sides, though now that Patton really thought about it, they never invited Logan in. And why? For what? He liked Logan. He really did.</p><p> </p><p>    But did he?</p><p> </p><p>    If he did, then why wasn’t Logan invited to movie nights? Where was Logan when Thomas needed to make an important decision? Why didn’t Logan get to know about the latest crisis? Why did he <em> purposefully </em> leave Logan out? He wanted them to be friends. He treated him nicely, right?</p><p> </p><p>    Patton looked up at the clouds. He could barely make them out against the gray sky, but he could see a small cluster of them. Three big clouds, puffy, and they were moving so fast that Patton had difficulty keeping his eye on them. But his attention got turned to a small cloud floating behind them, as if it was trying to catch up. He wanted to say that this little cloud was him. He wasn’t like the other sides. He was childish and emotional. Who would want to even keep him around? </p><p> </p><p>    But this wasn’t about him. This was about Logan because Logan wasn’t there. Logan was getting pushed out. Logan was getting left behind and no one bothered to slow down for him. Patton didn’t bother to slow down for him. </p><p> </p><p>    He felt a sharp pain in his chest. This wasn’t unusual for him. He got them whenever Thomas, or another side, was feeling something too strongly. Usually, he was able to tell who was causing it. </p><p> </p><p>    A small little pounding in his head that desperately wanted to be quieter only meant one side: Logan.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton had helped caused this, hadn’t he? Now, Logan was suffering, feeling things that he didn’t understand, and Patton wasn’t there to help him. All he had to do was get through this maze, and maybe he could finally apologize.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton tried to slow his breathing down. His hands were shaking but they could still work in a pinch to give him something to match his breathing with. He felt the hedges begin to clear around him. Everything was going to be okay.</p><p> </p><p>    He remembered one story about a maze, a story that Roman and Logan loved. A man needed to get through a maze to kill a big monster, but so he didn’t get lost, someone gave him a long red string. Patton felt something materialize in his pocket: a long red string. He knew that he was nowhere near the entrance, but maybe he could figure it out. He had all of the tools that he could need. He had a red string to make sure that he didn’t get lost, a map that was beginning to defog, and a clear and confident state of mind.</p><p> </p><p>    He wanted to just pick a direction and try his best, but the little Logan voice in his head proposed to look at where he was on the map and figure it out from there. For the first time in a while, Patton heard and actually listened to it. </p><p> </p><p>    He was close to the center. Even through the dense hedges, he could see some sort of light shining. He checked the map and it looked as though he just had to make a few turns. He’d tie the string when he got the center. </p><p> </p><p>    He made his way to the right, just like the map said (assuming that he was reading it right, which he honestly didn’t think that he was). He made a left and the bright, shining light only got brighter. He reached the center of the maze.</p><p> </p><p>    It was a small table with a jar of golden Crofters sitting on it. Patton smiled, then chuckled, and then laughed out loud. There was still Logan in here somewhere. This was proof of it. </p><p> </p><p>    Patton tied one end of the string to the table and set off with the jar of jam in hand. He’d get through this maze no matter what. For Logan. And boy did he need to get a move on.</p><p> </p><p>    He checked the map ventured forth this time with a pep in his step and a smile creeping onto his face. He could do this.</p><p> </p><p>    Left and right. Right and left. Straight ahead and past the stairs (he didn’t even need them). He knew where he was headed, though he did check his map once or twice. He never ran into the string again. The map never fogged up again. The maze didn’t trick or fool him. It stopped changing and moving. Everything was coming up aces for him.</p><p> </p><p>    He wasn’t sure how he would feel when he saw the way out in sight. Would he cry? Would he clap? Would he run straight through it? </p><p> </p><p>    He did none of the above. He kept his head held high, a large smile on, and one foot in front of the other.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton felt the sun shine on his face as he exited the maze. However, he was once again met with the cold stare of Logan’s Room, who had hints of a smile somewhere on his face.</p><p> </p><p>    “Congratulations, Patton. You’ve made it through,” said Logan’s Room. He gestured back to the door that Patton came through.</p><p> </p><p>    Patton walked through it once more, hopefully to Logan this time.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One down, five to go. Who's next and what will their puzzle entail?</p><p>I apologize for this being so short.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments really do mean so much to me!</p><p>Things are coming. So, get ready.</p><p>(Also please ignore the notes under this one. I'm not sure why it's there and I can't figure out how to get rid of it).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Time-sweeper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Virgil's straight up not having a good time. Or times, for that matter.</p><p>a.k.a I think that I'm funny.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back! I apologise for not having updated for a while. Things were a bit hectic by me, but I'm back now. I started writing this chapter, then I hated my idea, started over, and rewrote it. I'm actually very happy with how it turned out.</p><p>Warnings:</p><p>A lot of swearing (I make Virgil swear more than he does in canon. I feels fitting to me)</p><p>Major character death (a lot)</p><p>My sense of humor</p><p>Minor Virgil angst</p><p>Logan angst</p><p>Please let me know if there's anything else!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Alright. Fuck Logan’s Room. This was absolute bullshit.</p><p> </p><p>    That was the only thing going through Virgil’s mind as he opened his door and stepped into a black void. Once he saw Logan’s Room, he was going to….</p><p> </p><p>    He was going to…</p><p> </p><p>    <em> He was going to…? </em></p><p> </p><p>    Okay, he wasn’t sure what, but it would be something. Something bad. Probably.</p><p> </p><p>    He was the overthinking fight-or-flight side, not the "come-up-with-rational-plans-that-made-sense" side. That was Logan. But Logan wasn’t here. And why the fuck was that?</p><p> </p><p>    He entered the black void. There wasn't much to say about it. It was black. It was a void. On one side was Virgil, slouched, hands in his pockets, curled into shaking fists. On the opposite side was Logan’s Room sitting in a chair, but on second glance Virgil noticed that it looked like a throne. <em> That prick. </em> </p><p> </p><p>    “Virgil, how nice it is to see you,” growled Logan’s Room. His “throne” was gray, probably made out of cement. One bleak, gray palette.</p><p> </p><p>    “Okay, asshole. I’m here. How do I get to Logan?” he snapped.</p><p> </p><p>    He walked forward into the void. Logan’s Room wasn’t going to stand a chance, that little bitch. It was a cold void that felt like walking on linoleum and would certainly leave bruises if someone were to fall into it. Even though it was entirely black, it was bright with little slips of light shining in smooth cracks, like a solar eclipse. Virgil wasn’t sure what was going to kill him first: the spitting headache, the bright light in his eyes that wasn’t helping, or the steel-toed growls of Logan’s Room? Maybe he'd get lucky and it would be all three at once.</p><p> </p><p>    He walked closer to Logan's Room to give him a real piece of his mind, but soon found that the floor had other plans. For starters, he was now face planted on it. Oh, he definitely had a concussion. Dammit, what were the symptoms again? Logan would know this. Headache? Lethargy? Sleepiness? Dilated pupils? Okay, he couldn't exactly check that last one and the shortness of his breath (hyperventilating, he recalled Logan saying once or twice. Okay, it was many times but in his defense, Logan said a lot of things very quickly.)</p><p> </p><p>    “You might want to watch your step. The void can be a bit slippery,” said Logan’s Room. He had a pained smile on. “Of course, you’d already know that by now, if you’d have let me finish.”</p><p> </p><p>    Virgil said nothing but glared at the growing smirk on Logan’s Room’s face.</p><p> </p><p>    After clearing his throat, he said, “Now, this is a door.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Yeah, I fucking know that. What's it for?” said Virgil.</p><p> </p><p>    “If you’d let me finish, I could tell you,” Logan’s Room snapped with gritted teeth.</p><p> </p><p>    “Not my fault that you keep pausing for dramatic effect.”</p><p> </p><p>    Watching Logan’s Room try to keep himself from screaming or killing him or really just anything unLogan-like and trying to take deep breaths almost made it all worth it. He had to restrain himself from bursting out laughing. </p><p> </p><p>    <em> “Keep your eyes on the prize, Virgil,” </em> he thought. <em> “Logan.” </em></p><p> </p><p>    “As I was saying, this is a door. The object is to walk through it. Something will be waiting for you. Figure it out,” said Logan’s Room standing on his <strike>infinitemetismal</strike> <strike>infinesmal</strike> infinitesimal goddamn soap box.</p><p> </p><p>“So, that’s it? Walk through the door? I don't know what's behind it. I could fucking die.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Please,” pshawed Logan’s Room with a wave of his hand. “You can’t die.”</p><p> </p><p>    “I don’t really want to test your theory,” Virgil said.</p><p> </p><p>    “But I am right. You’re a side, a figment of the imagination. You can’t die.”</p><p> </p><p>    “Whatever,” said Virgil, rolling his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>    Was there anything more satisfying than pushing more and more of Logan’s Room’s buttons?   </p><p> </p><p>    The door was brown and the handle was something not of gold. Wow, the guy couldn't even go for the good stuff. At least it looked fun with its rounded top like something out of a high fantasy novel. The sign on the door that read, "Open Me", was probably the most fun thing about it (like he was Alice in whatthefuckland). In fact, it was so fun that Virgil gave a heartless laugh while he walked through it.</p><p> </p><p>    Through the door was Thomas' house. He wasn't surprised that the door would take him somewhere else, he just wasn't sure what Logan's Room was playing at. The house was empty, or at least the upstairs hallway was. It wasn't quite like Thomas' actual house. No, this was more like the mindscape with the hallway having all of the normal rooms in Thomas' house plus a longer and progressively darker side where each room for each side lay. And since Virgil remembered the nightmare that landed him in this situation, he swiftly avoided <em> that </em> area. Everything else had an ethereal glow to it; It was akin to a holographic toy; when you looked at it from a different angle, the colors began to change.</p><p> </p><p>    "Hey, Logan's Room or interface or whatever the hell you're calling yourself," he called out.</p><p> </p><p>    He threw his arms out as though the not-Side would come running into his arms.</p><p> </p><p>    Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>    "Hello?" he tried again.</p><p> </p><p>    No one.</p><p> </p><p>    "Well, this is fun," Virgil grumbled. </p><p> </p><p>    He turned behind him to see if he could go back through the door and ask Logan's Room what the hell he was supposed to be doing, but it was gone, just a wall now. So, he turned towards the stairs. Maybe whatever he needed to do was outside of the "house". He signed and began to descend, but not before catching his foot on something at the top of the stairs. He felt his spine twist into the same shape of a shitty pretzel and break just as easily. Everything went black before he even tumbled down to the final stair.</p><p> </p><p>    He had wondered what death was like since he had first formed. He had wanted this to be a fun bonding exercise with Thomas during those restless middle school nights. Turns out that twelve year olds don't really like thinking about that very much unless they're joking around because they're twelve and have no real senses of humor yet. So, he was left to ponder this on his own. He could have talked to Remus about this, but being twelve gave Remus too much power. It was safer to stay away. </p><p> </p><p>    Apparently, death was a shitty black void that felt cold because you were dead and then really warm, meaning that you were either in hell or you were alive again, which was basically being in hell.</p><p> </p><p>    Virgil found himself sitting against a wall next to a door. Alright, he needed to get out of here. This wasn't even the correct layout of Thomas' house and...hold on. Why did he even care? Only Logan would care about something like that.</p><p> </p><p>    Despite having been dead for a short period of time, he was still going strong. No pain, no scars, and no dried blood. He used this lack of pain and constant spite of whoever was closest to fuel his legs down the stairs. And boy, did they go down those stairs. </p><p> </p><p>    One could say that Virgil's legs were torn into pieces as he traversed the stairs like a snowboarder failing miserably. All because his stupid foot got caught onto something at the top of the stairs. Virgil matched everything around him for the next ten thousand years or three seconds; they were both entirely in black.</p><p> </p><p>    Opening his eyes, he noticed that the walls were a pale yellow. One side of the hallway had three rooms all with brown doors. The mindscape-like side of the hallway was too dark to tell if it continued in the pale yellow color and he didn't want to find out.</p><p> </p><p>    Shit, what was the goal again?</p><p> </p><p>    Right, to get out of the house and figure out what the hell was going on. So, he died twice? Big deal. Superheroes did it all the time. Logan would probably have said something along the lines of, "this cannot possibly be good for your health...blah, blah, blah."</p><p> </p><p>    No shit that it wasn't good for his health. He fucking died. Twice.</p><p> </p><p>    He got up from his respawn area at the wall by a door. As he reached the stairs, the cracking of his bones and the pain that swallowed him reared its ugly head back into his mind. Right. <em> Those </em> stairs. They seemed to get longer as he stared down at them--taunting him almost--until he spied something in the corner of his eye. Sitting at the top of the stairs was a black notebook. There was a white label, one that wouldn't be out of place on a school desk, that read:</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> The Commonplaceness of Stupidity </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> Or; Stupid Things People Have Said To Me </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Property of Logic "Logan" Sanders. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If found, please return to the party named above. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>    "Wow, L," Virgil said with a bored drawl. He flippantly flipped through the book. Unsurprisingly, Thomas and Roman had the most quotes. Then, it was Patton and Remus. Then, Janus. And finally himself. That's not to say that he didn't have enough quotes where Logan had specifically stapled in more paper to make room for more of his quotes. "Really feelin' the love right now."</p><p> </p><p>    It was the only piece of Logan here. So, he carried it with him as he traversed the stairs. The downstairs looked almost identical to the actual home. Props for details and set design, but this wasn't the goddamn Tonys. The "almost" part, however, came in that there was no door to the outside. So much for that idea. Everything seemed fine. He sat on the couch and flipped through the journal, laughing in agreement at whatever dumb thing Roman said at somepoint. He had to give Logan credit because most of these were definitely verbatim and there was no way that Virgil would have been able to remember these quotes exactly.</p><p> </p><p>    Then he heard the crash from the kitchen. Virgil raced in there and saw glass jars throwing themselves off of the shelves and littering the floor with its icky, dark substance. But he stood there a moment too long. Glass jars fucking hurt. He knew that now as he crumpled to the ground with several cracked jars lying next to him and he returned once more to the cold void.</p><p> </p><p>    He woke up next to the same goddamn door, but this time there was a twist. Logan's journal was sitting next to him. So, he cleared that level? Was this more like a video game or a test of strength?</p><p> </p><p>    Despite there being no obstacles on the stairs, he still treaded carefully. He didn't want to repeat every bone in his body breaking at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>    Once he got down to the bottom of the now conquered death stairs, the screams of the crashing glass began again. There was no time to sit and wait, but there was a pattern to how they fell. There were three shelves of jars surrounding the main floor of the kitchen, like a peninsula of jars. But the jars never fell at the same time. First the right ones fell, then the left, then the right again, and then the straight ones. The suicidal jars jumped until the shelves were empty. In the split second before more jars reappeared, Virgil spotted one jar filled with a different color than the rest in the shelf straight ahead. He hoped that Logan, wherever he was, would be proud of him for figuring this out by himself.</p><p> </p><p>    "God, who the fuck convinced Thomas that he needed three walls of shelves?"</p><p> </p><p>    As he said this, everything stopped. Every falling jar was held in place and new ones didn't appear again. Well, that is until he stopped speaking. The journal in his hands began to shake. He threw it open and found that on the last page small, neat, almost typed-like words were forming: "'God, who the fuck convinced Thomas that he needed three walls of shelves?'-Virgil" and "This was stupid because Virgil was the one who convinced him."</p><p> </p><p><em>     "Well, Logan," </em> he thought with a smirk. <em> "I guess I'm smarter than you thought." </em></p><p> </p><p>    He flipped to the beginning of his section and started with the first entry, back when he was still known as "Anxiety".</p><p> </p><p>    "Why should we care about Pluto?"</p><p> </p><p>    Everything began to hover with his words and crash again when he was done. Just a test, but he'd have to either speak slowly or move quickly.</p><p> </p><p>    "Everyone knows that you're the least popular character," he read aloud. He had vivid memories of first saying this. How meek Logan looked after it and if the shaky handwriting in the journal was anything to go by, how much he took it to heart.</p><p> </p><p>    He took a few steps forward and narrowly dodged three jars as he read the next statement.</p><p> </p><p>    "The color blue doesn't make any sense."</p><p> </p><p>    He was almost like a gazelle or a kangaroo, hopping over piles of glass and its dark containments. Halfway there.</p><p> </p><p>    "I'm going to die."</p><p> </p><p>    Getting closer. The spray of glass slides across his back, but for the first time he thinks that he's going to be okay.</p><p> </p><p>    "Logan is worthless, useless, and has no place being here."</p><p> </p><p>    Virgil reached the final shelf with the final jar. No more jars appear or fall.</p><p> </p><p>    "Please, please don't be blood," he said as he reached down to touch the substance oozing from the broken jars. It felt sticky. Blood wasn't sticky, right? He smelt his fingers and began laughing. It smelt like fruits and sugar.</p><p> </p><p>    "Of course it's jam," he laughed, "this is Logan that we're talking about."</p><p> </p><p>    He looked back at the shelf straight ahead and saw that there was one left: Logan's Berry Jam.</p><p> </p><p>    "C'mon, L. Let's end this one," said Virgil, grabbing the jar. "...And I'm talking to a jar of jam."</p><p> </p><p>    With the jar and journal in hand, he made his way back to the stairs. Well, he would have if he could actually make it there without toppling over. The entire "house" began to shake, but there was one place in particular that was acting up: the filming spot in the living room, but upon a closer look, it was the spot next to the stairs, Logan's spot.</p><p> </p><p>    Everything began to change from a drunken shake to a violent frenzy. In his attempt to grab onto something steady, Virgil bashed his head against the stair railing, not once, not twice, but four times. Back to black, he supposed as the blood poured and the light faded.</p><p> </p><p>    Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Everything was decidedly not cool, but at least he had jam and a detailed notebook of everytime Logan thought that he was being stupid, which was much more than he had first thought. </p><p> </p><p>    Yay him.</p><p> </p><p>    He went back downstairs unsure of what the tremors meant. All he could do was pace Logan's usual spot. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>     Drip. Drip. Drip. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>    Something warm and wet was hitting the back of his neck. He looked up, narrowly avoiding it making contact with his eye, and saw something blue hanging from the ceiling. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was Logan's tie all done up like the painting with the melting clocks. Each little drip was like a tear.</p><p> </p><p>    Virgil stared at it in his hands and sighed.</p><p> </p><p>    "It'll be okay, L. We'll get through this."</p><p> </p><p>    Something wasn't right here, well other than the fact that a deranged interface trapped him, killed him a few times, and had probably taken his friend hostage. So, there was no door? He'd just have to find some other way out. He could do that. He could do that, if it wasn't for the smoke, that is.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>     Smoke? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>    He raced up the death-stairs and found the door next to his respawn area to be completely on fire. </p><p> </p><p>    He didn't last three seconds before it exploded. Ah, the black void; how he missed thee.</p><p> </p><p>    The door was a standard model: brown with a metal handle. No, it was the sign on the door that was out of the ordinary.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Open Me </em>
</p><p> </p><p>    At least this time it was all spelled out for him. Virgil tried knocking, for who knew what tricks Logan's Room would play on him.</p><p> </p><p>    After no answer, he slowly opened the door to reveal the plainest of rooms. At first he thought that there was no way that this could Logan's room. Well, he'd never been in Logan's room, but this didn't feel right.</p><p> </p><p>    It had one twin sized bed in the corner and a desk opposing it. On the desk was something curious. It had Logan's glasses, Logan's tie, and other Logan features. But it wasn't him. It was mechanical. It could never be him.</p><p> </p><p>    Virgil walked closer, wary of the smoke he'd seen earlier. The mechanical form was like the puppet that Logan had been once, but it was life size and much more than just fabric. The eyes could not glow. The chest was ripped open, revealing not a human heart for a humanoid, but a mechanical engine. </p><p> </p><p>    Virgil ripped out the engine and began trying to take it apart. Upon realizing that he had no idea how to properly take it apart, he began smashing it instead.</p><p> </p><p>    A smokey smell slithered its way to his nose. When he looked up from all of the smashing, he saw that the room was on fire. </p><p> </p><p>    He had no time to get out. But at least he got to be once more with the sweet embrace of Death. Remus once wrote a poem called "The Sweetest Embrace". It was simultaneously about death and sex. It was actually pretty good, though the imagery was a bit graphic for Virgil's taste.</p><p> </p><p><em>     "Up an' at 'em," </em> was what Janus would always say when Virgil didn't want to do his job. One, fuck that guy. Two, this phrase was being put to much better use now as he rammed himself into the room with his Logan trinkets.</p><p> </p><p>    So smashing the engine didn't work. He still died.</p><p> </p><p>    "You're not Logan," he said to the pile of junk pretending to be his friend. "You're a hunk of metal with no heart. You're not him and you never will be."</p><p> </p><p>    He stared into its eyes. It stared back. Virgil liked the color blue. Usually it was bright and full of life, just like Logan. But the eyes of the mechanical thing were dull and void.</p><p> </p><p>    "Is this what you think I wanted, Logan?"</p><p> </p><p>    The thing made no response; it couldn't because it was specifically made and trained not to.</p><p> </p><p>    "I was joking about restricting your breathing. But you take everything so literally."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>    Maybe I shouldn't have said it at all. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>    "But that's not an excuse. Apologies never feel genuine. I know that. I'm always overthinking and keeping Thomas up at night because either he apologised or someone apologised to him, it didn't feel genuine. I want to make it up to you."</p><p> </p><p>    He took the tie and placed it around the mechanical form's neck. He put the jar of Crofters in its hand. He took out the notebook and put it on its lap.</p><p> </p><p>    "You may look like Logan, but you're not him. Logan, you care so much and I'm so sorry that I haven't shown you the same. No, I've been a dick. I have ignored you. I have shut you down. I have threatened you," said Virgil. "Not anymore. I'm going to stand with you. I'm going to defend you. I'm going to give you a place to speak. Logan, <em> you </em>, will always have a seat at the table."</p><p> </p><p>    The form's eyes began to glow a brilliant blue, almost as if a lightbulb went off.</p><p> </p><p>    Then everything went black once more. That cool feeling washed over him like a wave.</p><p> </p><p>    He woke up again in the black void. Logan's Room leered over him.</p><p> </p><p>    "Congratulations, Virgil. You've succeeded," said Logan's Room flatly.</p><p> </p><p>    "Fuck you. I fucking died like seven times."</p><p> </p><p>    "No, you didn't. You can't die. How many times do I have to say this?"</p><p> </p><p>    "Now where's Logan? Is he okay?"</p><p> </p><p>    "You went through this. What do <em> you </em> think?"</p><p> </p><p>    Logan's Room was gone. All that was left was one final door that was no different than the previous ones because it read, in heavy calligraphy:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Open Me </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!</p><p>Who's up next? What are they in for? What is Logan's Room's agenda?</p><p>All of this and more will be answered in the following chapters!</p><p>Stay tuned! I'm excited.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Much Ado About Logan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.”</p>
<p>	“No. And he were, I would burn my study.”</p>
<p>	-Much Ado About Nothing, Act 1, Scene 1</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, I'm back. I have been excited to write this since I started writing this fic. I am incredibly happy with how it came out. Have fun.</p>
<p>Warnings:</p>
<p>Hallucinations<br/>Yelling<br/>Fighting<br/>Swearing<br/>Roman angst<br/>Logan angst<br/>The fact that I listened to ART IS DEAD on repeat while writing this. This song will haunt my dreams now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   </p>
<p>    Roman’s door was bright red with the grandest knob of what could only be the purest gold. It was so fitting for someone of his caliber; However, for the life of him, he couldn’t place what could be on the other side of the door. If these challenges were tailored to them, maybe he’d have to fight a manticore-chimera, or maybe he would have to save Logan from a tower (this would only be difficult in that it would be hilarious and Roman’s unending laughter from seeing Logan in such a situation would be difficult to keep in).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He could not properly express his disappointment in finding that behind his door was nothing more than a pale yellow room made of a painted cement stone with a wooden table and two chairs, one of which was occupied by Logan’s Room, looking as gray as ever, sitting in its center. <em> Boring. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Just in time,” muttered Logan's Room. His smile was stunted in his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I'm sorry. This was really not what I was-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan’s Room’s eye roll cut Roman’s words right as they were and discarded them as quickly as they were spoken.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Expecting?” he said. “Yes, I can tell. You always assume that fantasy is necessary for every situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I mean, am I wrong?” Roman protested. “Everyone needs some fantasy in their lives. Even ‘interfaces’ like you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You misunderstand, Princey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He didn't bother to explain why or what exactly he was misunderstanding. Instead, he motioned to the other seat at the table. Roman stamped his foot in response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I demand to know what's going on here,” pouted Roman with one hand on his sword. “Where's the Iron Maiden? Whining in his room?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan's Room said nothing. He wasn't even looking at Roman. He was pretending to check his nails. Roman had never actually looked at his nails, but they were probably some dull gray if they were painted, or, more likely, they had nothing on them at all. Logan also had refused Roman’s many attempts for a spa day or a mani-pedi makeover.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Tea?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You cannot fool me, fiend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan's Room ignored him. A tea set appeared on the table and he began to pour for both of them. One cup was left black. The other cup had four spoons of sugar. The cup without sugar was a mug that was entirely gray with--for added personality--a single stripe around it in a darker gray. The sugary cup was not unlike something out of a child's tea set. The handle looked as though it was made out of spun gold and a deep red gracefully splashed the sides of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   “Please sit down.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman gingerly touched the seat. It was a large wooden chair, one that you would find at a medieval banquet. Perfect and fitting, just like him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    The tea was placed in front of him by a long finger that wouldn't be out of place wagging at him for something completely undeserved. It sat there to get cold by two steely eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Hello, Princey,” said Logan’s Room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Hello?” said Roman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “When I leave, a riddle will appear. Solve it, and you may be able to get out,” explained Logan’s Room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Well then, why are you even here? What’s with all of the pleasantries?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Before answering, Logan’s Room raised an eyebrow. He stared directly into his cup of tea and sipped, careful not to slurp (he was in the company of royalty, after all).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Perhaps you’re smarter than you look,” he said. “I just like you <em> that </em> much, Princey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman beamed. He never did that for or with Logan. He flitted back and forth from tea to speech, tea to speech, like a hummingbird. It was odd, yet refreshing: this sound of silence with someone so much like Logan, but so distinctly not. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Well, this is actually significantly more pleasant than any tea time that I’ve ever had with Nerd-icus,” smiled Roman. He didn’t notice Logan’s Room grip the table like a vice. Roman blissfully sipped his tea as he prattled on. “You know, I didn’t really care for you at first, but this is actually nice. Small pleasantries, tea exactly how I like it, and you got straight to the point. I’d almost think that you should just take over as Logic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan’s Room’s chair shot backwards and he slammed his hands onto the table. His face was as red as Roman’s sash. His eyes narrowed and fixed onto Roman’s.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Don’t you dare insinuate that I could <em> ever </em> be better than him.” He slammed his chair back into the table and stormed out of the room, but not before saying, “Take your time and drink up, Princey. You’re going to need it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman frowned as the door Roman had come through disappeared behind him. Once again, he was alone because no one could stand being near him for that long. But, if he had been more observant, he would have noticed that the level of tea in Logan’s Room’s cup hadn’t changed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Turning his attention back to the table, he noticed that a tea-stained and yellowed piece of parchment was lying now on the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I have never felt the sweetest embrace, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Yet I have no soul. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> No breaths escape me, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Yet I need to steal yours to keep me awake. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Your tears are what will destroy me. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> You can catch me, but be no fool, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I cannot stop unless you make me. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> What am I? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Well, that made no sense to him. He appreciated the attention to detail and the ability to stick to a theme. The whole thing was perfectly dramatic and the calligraphy, god the calligraphy. And <em> why </em> couldn't this guy be Logic instead?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Whatever. Why was he giving so much thought to stupid Logan? It’s not as though Logan ever gave him any thoughts. Though, Logan made it clear that he didn’t like him and the feeling was mutual. That stupid condescending smirk, that quirked eyebrow after every time Roman opened his mouth, always questioning everything he said or did; It all haunted him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>     Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>     “Focus, Princey. Just tune it out. You can do this, </em>” he thought. Once Logan’s Room exited, this small tapping rang out. He had no idea where it was coming from and, frankly, he knew that he shouldn’t care; It wasn’t important, but the noise surrounded him like a swarm of bees.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He laughed as he stared at the piece of paper and gave a hollow laugh. Logan would love this, wouldn’t he? Every little thought coming back to that nerd and not a single one on the task at hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I have never felt the sweetest embrace, </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Okay, that could mean a lot of things. His brother always used this to refer to sex or death. Roman supposed that either one of those things could fit. He was in no position to rule anything out yet. Maybe he could figure this out if that noise would stop. He could feel it swirl around in his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>    Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Yet I have no soul. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Maybe the answer was Logan. Didn’t know love? Had no soul? That sure sounded like him. But in actuality, Roman scratched his head with this one. So, it wasn’t alive? It’s not like you could have sex when you were dead, so was death the answer? But it didn’t have a soul either, though he supposed that not everyone believed in the existence of a soul. Was it both alive and dead? Was it neither? God, was <em> he </em> the answer to this? Sometimes, he could barely bring himself out of his bed. Luckily, Lo--no. <em> No </em>. No more thoughts about him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    The crescendo of taps rang through his ears. He tried covering his ears, but that only seemed to make them grow louder. He tried humming, but nevertheless, they persisted. He even tried singing, but they refused to yield to his glorious voice.</p>
<p>
  <em>     Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> No breaths escape me </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He was fucked, so to speak. Roman sat and stared at the piece of paper in front of him with a raised eyebrow and a frown, a Logan face. Why couldn’t he figure this out? Why did his brain have to forsake him in the only time that it mattered? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Imagination could only take you so far. You needed to find that balance within yourself  between fantasy and reality. And now he had neither. That tapping was like jabs or smacks. He could hear Logan’s shrill whispers in each one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>     Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He crumpled the paper in his fists. Too many jabs made something snap inside. Why should he be spending any more of his thoughts on that uncultured harpy? Why was he even wasting his time on him?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Great Apollo, I feel like I’m in ‘The Raven’,” he yelled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Or ‘The Tell-Tale Heart,” said someone coldly. Perhaps it was because they didn’t have any feelings or perhaps they just hated him just that much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He shot his head up and saw nothing. He saw the same stupid stone walls giving him frowns. The same kind that he gave to Doofus McGee when he opened his mouth to spit out some irrelevant, useless factoid that was only there for some stupid PR purpose and never actually helped. <em> Fuck him. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He threw his head around the room, examining every little crevice like a bug under a microscope. When Logan was around, he basically was. In his confusion, his panic, his plight, his arm made a foul swoop into the tea cups. The red one shattered immediately upon impact with the floor on the left side of the table. The gray one looked as though it would break at any second as it lay on the right side of the floor. The tea oozed out from both cups. Roman had to pinch himself as he watched the tea rise up the chair opposite from him and swirl around itself to form the figure of a person. A <em> certain </em>person. An annoying person. A nuisance. But this seed of remarkable animosity had a name: Logan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   “I thought that I was safe from you for one minute,” snarled Roman. “What are you even doing here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   “What do you think?” Logan sneered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   “Have you come here to mock and ridicule me some more?” said Roman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   “For once,” he said. “No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   “Has Mr-High-and-Mighty finally conceded?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan paused for a moment. The light stopped its journey to Logan’s eyes as he grew a smirk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You already used that one, Princey. You’re not slowing down, are you? Try again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   Roman felt his teeth grit as Logan’s jaw set. His stony eyes bored into Roman’s sea-like ones.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>   “Harry Dawdler and the Useless Brain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Primadonna.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “That’s rich, coming from the male version of Katerina Minola, you shrew.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “If anything, I am closer to Beatrice, you melodramatic drama queen.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Knock-off Doofenshmirtz.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Attention whore.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman threw himself from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table. The sound lingered in the air, but Logan didn’t even flinch. “Stop it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan simply raised his chin and narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Why should I? It's not like you've ever bothered to stop when insulting me. I don't matter, do I? But when perfect Princey gets his feelings hurt, <em> I </em> am the one that needs to shut up. Because it’s always my fault. No one else can do any wrong, can they? Logan has no feelings. Logan’s opinions don’t matter. No one gives a <em> shit </em> what I think.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “That’s--that’s not true,” said Roman. He couldn’t look Logan in the eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Oh, it isn’t?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “No, it’s not because people actually like me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman wished to be shocked that he said this. He wished that he had covered his mouth and gasped. He wished any tiny sliver of regret or remorse that Logan was incapable of feeling shoved itself into his heart. But he didn’t and it didn’t. Not that it mattered much, for Logan simply stared up at him. His eyes were like sharp icicles, too cold to feel anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Instead, Roman curled his lip and surprised himself with a growl. Maybe he was spending too much time with Virgil. Maybe this stupid challenge was getting to him. Maybe it was Logan’s continuous taps driving him insane. Who even fucking knew at this point? And Logan…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan simply let out a dry laugh, not that he had any other kind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Just get back to your <em> task </em>, Princey. Let’s see if even you can figure this one out,” said Logan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>     Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    That noise pinged around in his mind like a game of pong. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. Talking with Logan was already a chore, but usually Thomas or the other sides were there to balance it out. Not now, though. Now, karma decided to finally kick in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “It’s not my fault that this puzzle makes no sense,” said Roman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan raised his eyebrow and said nothing. Roman only groaned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Stop making those faces. I am sick of you being cryptic and vague. Are you even here to help me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan’s eyebrow dropped into its usual stern place. He stared into Roman’s eyes. Logan’s own eyes held a stout and stony laugh. “Do you really want to know what I think? Fine. I think that you are an idiot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan laughed with one simple, soft harumph. He dragged himself from his seat and circled the table, not taking an eye off of Roman. Maybe Roman wanted to pretend that Logan was a bird of prey, but really it was both of them. They were on opposite sides of the same coin, each one desperate to jump off and run away as far as possible from it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Oh, please go on, Emperor of the mind. I am here to revel in your glory,” said Roman, rolling his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You can only see your mistakes once they’re sitting in front of you, staring you in the face.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Don’t flatter yourself,” Roman sneered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You are a selfish fucking asshole who cannot come up with original ideas and can’t stand not being the center of attention. And most of all, to top it off, I know that you don’t like me. So, I’ll make it easier for your infinitesimal brain to understand: I hate you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan leaned on the wall opposite of Roman. His arms were crossed, but everything else about him was on edge. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Swearing isn't very becoming, especially coming from the arbiter of knowledge and the epitome of maturity.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “So says you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I don’t have to listen to you,” thrashed Roman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Okay, then, I’ll give you something else to listen to. It’s not like you listen to me in a normal situation anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Oh, now we’re back onto that. You talk so much, yet you say nothing. It’s all just exposition, annoying facts, random statistics, ‘oh, I don’t have feelings’, and blah blah blah. Do you ever stop?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan said nothing and just resumed his tapping, this time on the wall. Roman noticed that he never actually stopped; Roman just tuned it out. It was easy to do that with Logan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>     Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    A new vein popped with each new tap-tap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>     Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    His eyes clenched but he could feel them seep into red.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>     Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    His blood pumping in his ears mixed with that godforsaken tapping was enough to make him almost stab someone with his sword.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “That tapping is ridiculous,” he yelled, staring at Logan who wore a matching frown.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You’re ridiculous,” snapped Logan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Wow, you’re on a clever streak, Specs. If only your comebacks could be as riveting as your lectures.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan just rolled his eyes. Roman wasn’t sure if he would have preferred a response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Is it supposed to be a heartbeat?” Roman asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You know the <em> tap-tap, tap-tapping </em>? It sounds like a heartbeat. Is that what it’s supposed to be?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I can change the rhythm if you want.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Oh, I don’t really care what the rhythm is. I mean, ideally, you would stop doing it--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I won’t. I’m having too much fun annoying you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan’s grin said it all. It took all of Roman’s inner will and years dealing with his brother not to rip up the paper in his hands. Roman took a deep breath and threw on his best smile, one that fooled Patton every time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Whatever. I’m just going to be the bigger person and go back to the puzzle.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan scoffed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Something you want to share with the class, Teach?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Who are you trying to fool? You already know the answer,” said Logan. “It’s fire.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Well, I’m so glad that you and your big brain figured it out.” But something about what Logan said seemed off, like a smile that was too wide. “What do you mean, ‘who are you trying to fool’?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I mean it exactly. Stop acting for once in your life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I’m sorry, but that’s kind of my thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Stop <em> hearing </em> and actually <em> listen </em>to me for once,” snapped Logan. “Stop playing the fool. Take responsibility for once in your life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, but he felt Logan’s stone-cold ones staring daggers. It felt like stabs to the chest every time he took a breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Oh, for Disney’s sake. Come off of it, Princey. You can’t lie to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You called me an idiot before. Why should I entertain anything that you’re saying?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I am sitting right in front of you and you still can’t get it through your thick skull. Why can’t you just listen to me? Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman didn’t even hear what he said. He was too busy focusing on the fact that his head was pounding, that he was sweating buckets, that the room seemed to be spinning. He threw his head into his arms, yelping at each new pain. Logan simply narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I have never felt pain like this,” Roman groaned. “Not even when Thomas or I mess up. I--I...am I dying? Have I finally reached my end?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re not dying. You can’t die.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Then why is that tapping pounding in my head? Then why is the room fading?  And most importantly, why are <em> you </em> here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan frowned. “If you don’t want me here, I can just go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “No. No. No. Why do you take everything so literally?” Roman yelled. Logan stared at him with a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘was there another way to take that?’ “Why is it always me who must change for you? My respect and admiration for you reach undiscovered levels, but you always reject it and shove it back in my face.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I’ll say it again: ‘You can only see your mistakes once they’re sitting in front of you, staring you in the face,’ Logan sighed. “You made me this way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “You just keep blathering on and on. Stop acting like any of us have anything to feel sorry for you about. Stop playing pretend, Logan, and live in the real world. And I cannot believe that I am the one who has to tell you this. You gave up your sense of self when you became a self-serving robot. And as I sit here, I have suddenly realized that I am watching Icarus fall because he <em> had </em> to be like Faustus.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    If looks could kill, then Logan’s punched him in the gut and would not stop until he was battered and bloodied on the floor. In fact, this is exactly what it did. Logan stood over him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “For god’s sake, get up. Is that really how you want to play things, Princey?” said Logan. “Why should I feel any sympathy for you when you have never shown it towards me? I get told to shut up. I get ridiculed. I get insulted. You seemingly turn everyone against me. You brush me off, even when I am trying to help you. Do not think that I don’t remember how you acted after you ran out, like a coward, when Janus got accepted. I asked if you were okay. I broke down my walls and hesitations because I knew that you were hurting. And what did you do? You threw my hand away. You called me ‘the Deus Ex Machinea’ and stamped away after saying that you never wanted to see me again if I would just side with a snake and a leader that didn’t know what he was doing. Fuck you, Roman. Every single day I have to hear it from you and it is like another knife in my chest, and while you get praised, I get ignored. So, I will ask you one more time. Why should I feel any sympathy towards you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman completely collapsed on the floor. He stared up at the ceiling. Stone, it was. A gray stone, just like how he felt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I don’t know, okay? I can’t answer that. Why should you feel anything towards me?” Roman said softly. “Anything but pure rage? Pure hatred? The full force of thousands of ships charging towards me? All of those things that you claim not to be able to experience. I don’t know, Logan. Do you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan sighed and sat down at the table. “I don’t know you as well as you think I do. You won’t let me--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Well, it’s not like you ever let me in,” Roman protested.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Stop being defensive and just listen to what I have to say for once,” said Logan. “You don’t allow me to know you, but I think that we could be something better and something more than what we are currently. We know that we don’t always work together. We know that we fight. But why haven’t we moved past that stage yet? We know that we could be a great team. We know that we suppress every little hint that we are similar. I don’t want to admit that I am like you. You wouldn’t be caught dead being anything like me. And why is that? Because it takes a strong person to realize one’s own faults. You have made mistakes when it comes to me and I cannot deny that I have done the same in regards to you. But there was always something more lying beneath the surface of both of us. Do not pretend that it isn’t there. Recognize it and accept it. We don’t have to be at each other’s throats every time. Finding that balance and strength within yourself can be difficult. We aren’t a mirror of each other. I believe that the expression is that we are ‘birds of a feather.’”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman stared up at the ceiling, eyes catching Logan’s only for a second. There was something softer behind them, like clay. Clay was moldable. It was something that you could build up and then destroy. It was messy and graphic and could be anything that you wanted. You could rebuild it and try and try and try again. Eventually it would lose itself; But not if you finally found something inside of it and yourself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I truly believe that you are the best of us, Logan,” Roman whispered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Well, you could have fooled me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Alright. That was fair. He deserved that one. He deserved all of them. What he didn’t deserve was, Logan sitting cross-legged next to him, frowning as always.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” said Roman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    It was at that moment that he heard a strange sound, a sound that he had never heard before. A swift, small chuckle from Logan “Logic” Sanders. Logan was now lying next to him, also staring up at the ceiling. Their tiny smiles were caught on the edges of the harsh stone surrounding them. It was always a reminder of what could come.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I thought that princes didn’t swear,” Logan smirked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “<em> This </em> prince can do whatever he wants,” said Roman, “starting with fixing whatever went wrong.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Those are empty words, Princey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I know that, but you’ll just have to trust me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “It won’t be immediate.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I know that, but you’ll just have to trust me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “It will take time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I know that, but you’ll just have to trust me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Feelings aren’t my strong suit. And you have never been kind to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “I know that, Logan, but dear god. Is it too much to just trust me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman turned his head and stared at Logan. Logan continued to stare at the ceiling. After several minutes of silence, Roman turned his head back. It was too much to hope for. He hadn’t noticed before, but the ceiling was rather pretty. It was a checkerboard pattern of red and blue tiles. In between the tiles was a rich purple. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    For the longest time, he hadn’t liked the color purple. Yes, it was always indicative of royalty, but red was so much better. It was strong, powerful, and always let everyone know what it was about. Then there was blue. It was the color of prissy, stuck-up nerds. He remembered the day that Thomas discovered that mixing blue and red made purple. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    It was also on that day, Roman and Logan decided that they hated each other. That argument was one for the history books. Every little flaw and speck of insult to injury was thrown around without fail or much care for the consequences. Neither one of them recovered from it, not fully, at least. They were children. It should have been nothing. Logan wanted Thomas to be reading the independent reading book. Roman wanted Thomas to run around outside and pretend that he was a prince fighting dragons or some <em> shit </em> like that. Both Roman and Logan ignored the migraines that their yelling was giving Thomas. Several things were established on that day: the piercing nicknames Roman gave Logan, the fire in both of their eyes whenever they saw each other, and almost thirty years of distance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Alright. I trust you,” said Logan softly, looking at Roman only through the corner of his eyes. “Roman.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman closed his eyes and felt a calm wave move through him. He breathed slowly but strong with a new purpose. Perhaps purple wasn’t so bad. Red may have been the color of primadonna princes and blue the color of trying robots, but purple gave each of them the chance to step away from all of that. And maybe now, they finally could.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    A loud snap made his eyes shoot open. There was no Logan next to him, no trace of him at all in the room. Just Logan’s Room glaring over him. Nothing could be peaceful or nice for one second. Logan had to ruin it all. <em> No. No. No. </em>He said that Logan could trust him. He promised, and princes didn’t go back on their promises.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan was trying his best. Roman understood this now. They had been running at each other at full force, not bothering to see where they were going. It was time to take off their blindfolds and see where each one hit. Wounds could heal slowly, but sometimes slow was good. This way, everything could air out in the open and they could all heal together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Congratulations, Princey. You did it,” he said flatly. He didn’t bother to help Roman up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Er--thank you?” said Roman. It wasn’t like he was going to take any handouts from Logan’s Room anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    They were both silent, refusing to look at each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “If it is any consolation, I played a very small part in everything that happened. That was all you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “Pardon?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Logan's Room sighed. “Think about it this way. You weren't looking for comfort or for a friend or a villain. You were looking for answers. Though I think that, in the end, you obtained all of those things.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Roman stared at the spot Logan had been sitting in. Logan’s Room simply motioned to the door. Roman took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and envisioned lying on the floor with Logan again. He reopened his eyes with one hand on his sword and another on the doorknob.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>     Please forgive me, Logan. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun Fact: The Logan hallucinations were originally supposed to go to Patton, but I decided when writing Patton’s chapter that I couldn’t resist writing Roman and Logan’s dynamic, and I switched it to go to Roman instead.<br/>Fun Fact Two: The riddle was originally going to be a sonnet written in iambic pentameter and then I realized that that was too complicated and I did not feel like attempting that.</p>
<p>Roman and Logan are my favorite characters and their dynamic/relationship is honestly one of the most interesting things about this series. </p>
<p>As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. Thank you so much for reading! Check out my other works if you enjoyed this or even if you didn't!</p>
<p>Special shoutout to the Logangst Discord for beta-reading and giving advice. I appreciate you all so much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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